Repercussions
by versatec
Summary: What if Max's transfusions had other side effects?


Repercussions

It was one of the good days: Logan was on his feet today for however long it would last.

At the UW campus, he and friends Mike Morgan and Camille (Mrs. Robert) Waters were preparing to host visiting royalty from England. The US was struggling back from the Pulse with the help of old allies and the Duke and Duchess of Marlborough were graciously returning three pieces of art to the Seattle Museum of Art.

So, here was Logan, coaching Camille in the art of curtsy! "How do I get myself into these things?" wondered Logan as he called to Camille to deepen the dip'! He had to laugh at Mike, who was out of Camille's sight, fortunately, as he executed a perfect curtsy. 

Camille, hearing Logan's snort of laughter, turned just in time to catch Mike in the act. "We'll see how funny it is when your joints are fifty years old and not accustomed to this kind of torture, smart ass!"

And both turned to the sound of a gasp from Logan's direction to find him clutching the base of his skull as he sank to the concrete. "Logan? You okay, man?" called Mike. He received only a groan in reply as he and Camille rushed to offer Logan assistance. "Hey, Logan, man, what is it?" "Logan, what's wrong?" Mike and Camille's words tumbled over each other.

"Oh, man," gasped Logan, still clutching his head. "I've never had a headache hit me like this! This blinding pain - just came out of the blue!"

"Let's get you inside, Logan. Can you stand?" asked Camille, taking charge. "Mike, give him a hand." she directed as it became apparent that Logan wasn't going to be able to negotiate on his own. It took both of them to get him up the steps and to the hall's doors. "Young lady, will you please hold the door for us?" she called to a student entering the hall; it was all Mike and Camille could do to hold Logan upright as they looked about for the nearest chair to settle him in.

Mike knelt anxiously before Logan, "How is it now, man? You alright?" 

"I've been better." murmured Logan.

"Is the pain still as intense? Is anything else affected- eyesight, nausea?" questioned Camille.

"No, just sharp pain at the back of my head, maybe a little better, now. Can you call my place, see if Bling is there? Tell him to bring the chair; I don't feel up to walking very far." Logan mumbled, fumbling for his cell phone. He closed his eyes and sank further into the chair as Mike made the call.

"No answer, Logan. I left a message." Mike looked at Camille. "What now?" he asked. As she opened her mouth to reply, Logan's cell phone, still in Mike's hand, rang. Mike shot Logan a questioning look as Logan waved his hand as if to say 'Get that , would you?'

"Hello?"

"Who's this?" demanded a young, female voice. "Where's Logan ?" 

Mike handed the phone off to Camille, as Logan still did not appear ready to deal with conversation. "This is Camille Waters. Logan is unable to come to the phone right now. May I help you?"

"What's going on? I just heard a message some guy left on Logan's machine. Is Logan okay?" 

"He's suffering an acute, quite intense headache. May I tell him who's inquiring?" "Tell him its Max. Where are you? What can I do to help?"

"Logan, its a young lady who says her name is Max."

Logan visibly roused himself and reached for the phone. "Max. Hey."

"Logan, what's going on? Where are you?"

"We're over at UW, at Waters Hall. Max, my head is splitting. Can you get over here with the chair? I don't feel up to walking to the car, or being dragged that far, for that matter. I don't feel so hot. The spare keys are in my nightstand." 

"On my way, Logan."

It took Max ten minutes to load the chair and get to the UW campus, but another ten to find Waters Hall. She burst through the doors, spotting Logan immediately, and called out to his friends "I'll be right back!"

"That must be your friend Max. I expect she's gone for the wheelchair." explained Camille. Logan responded with a shiver.

"Okay, big guy, let's get you home." Max spoke soothingly as they helped him transfer to the chair.

"Is there anything we can do? Are you sure he doesn't need to get to an emergency room? This headache's been pretty intense for a long time, now; for what, maybe half an hour?" Mike glanced at Camille for confirmation. Camille nodded in agreement. 

"No hospital! I've had my fill of hospitals!" Logan made his feelings clear on the subject.

"Are you certain he should go home? I think he needs to be seen by a doctor. I'm certain I can get him in to see mine if you don't want to take him to a hospital." offered Camille.

Max looked at Logan, who shook his head, wincing at the motion. He shivered once again. "I think I'd better just get him home. Thanks for the offer; I'll call you if he changes his mind. I assume he has your number at home. Waters, isn't it?"

"Yes, Waters. Robert and Camille."

Mike added "Call me later, Logan. " He looked at Max. "Mike Morgan. I want to know how he's doing. Call me, please." Max nodded assent and hurried Logan out to the car. His shivering had increased in intensity and duration, looking more like a seizure as time went on. Max and Logan were both familiar with seizures, and she was anxious to get him home before this progressed.

Max made the trip home in record time, pushing her luck during daylight hours through Seattle's uptown streets. By the time she reached Fogle Towers and got Logan up to the penthouse, she knew this was a real seizure. Max was puzzled by this turn of events and unsure how to deal with it. Should she take a chance and give Logan some of her tryptophan, the only thing she was familiar with to treat seizures? But her seizures were caused by a genetic lack of that amino acid and she didn't know if it would have any effect on Logan's shakes; or even if it would cause more serious problems.

Max wanted to discuss her dilemma with Logan, however, he was too deep in distress to be of help. She decided that her best bet was to give him the tryptophan and hope that since it was a naturally occurring and necessary amino acid, she wouldn't do him more harm by trying it. Max managed to get a small dose into Logan and was gratified to see his shakes subsiding in short order.

"Max?" Logan opened his eyes to the familiarity of his bedroom.

"I'm right here Logan. How you feeling?"

"Better. What time is it? How long have I been out?"

"Why is it that anytime someone has been out of it, they want to know how long? About an hour, I guess. It's four o'clock."

"That sounds about right. I suppose one just has a natural desire to be oriented to place and time. You know, Where am I, how did I get here, how long was I out?'"

"Okay, now you're sounding like Logan! You must be feeling better, not just saying so to make _me_ feel better. So, if you're in the mood to analyze, what do you think brought this on? You don't have a history of seizures that I know of, or even migraines. Any ideas about where this came from?"

"Not really. As you say, I don't have a history of any of this kind of thing."

"Uh huh. Well, you really scared the shit out of me. I felt like I had to do _something_, so I gave you some tryptophan and you started to mellow out almost immediately. You think this is tied to the transfusions?"

Logan gave Max a long, thoughtful stare, then shrugged his shoulders as he looked away. "I'm kind of tired, Max. Maybe we can talk about this later?"

" Kay. I'm usually pretty hungry after a seizure. You want me to find you something to eat?"

"Not hungry, but help yourself to whatever you find. I _am_ thirsty, though. Could you bring me some juice?"

"Your wish is my command, master!"

"Max! I didn't mean it that way! It's okay, I can get it myself." 

"Logan, relax. I was just joking! As many times as you've waited on me, I can certainly bring you a glass of juice. Just kick back and rest, I'll be right back."

Logan sank back into the pillows as he contemplated the suggestion that this episode may have been caused by Max's genetically engineered blood, with which he'd been transfused twice, now. Her pluri-potential-enriched blood had been responsible for the repair of his spinal nerves ( though the effects began unraveling a short time later). Could it also be responsible for his seizure? Logan knew Max was carrying some guilt over the temporary nature of the effects of her transfusions; he didn't want to add to her guilt be suggesting she was also the cause of this seizure.

"Hey, Logan, sure you aren't hungry? I brought you a sandwich and a glass of milk. How about joining me for a snack. It's not up to your standards, but I think it's edible!" Max pushed Logan's contemplation aside as she set a tray on the bed and plopped down next to him.

"You're right, Max, I'm more hungry than I realized. Thanks. I should have known you'd know what's best; you've had a lot more experience at this than I have. Mmm, good sandwich. I'll teach you to cook, yet!" the last mumbled through a mouthful of what could pass for a chicken club sandwich.

They ate in companionable silence, then, as was her habit after a meal at Logan's, Max cleared away the dishes, carrying them out to the kitchen where she cleaned up and put things away. She went back to Logan's room intending to talk with him about the cause of his seizure only to find him soundly asleep. Max decided to put off the discussion til tomorrow and quietly let herself out of the apartment.

Logan heard Max finishing up in the kitchen and making her way back to the bedroom. He really didn't want to get into the discussion he knew she'd be bringing up, so he feigned sleep, hoping she'd be fooled. Thank God it worked – Max was notorious for being able to read people's vital signs and knowing when they were prevaricating. He had a reprieve, at least until tomorrow; maybe he could figure out something to tell her by then. Meanwhile, he'd better call Mike and Camille, reassure them he was okay.

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Author's note: I know, the ending is weak! I've never written fiction, before. I haven't written anything but memos or Christmas letters since college, more than 25 years ago! The first part of this was a dream from which I woke up laughing. When I started this I thought it was going to be funny!


End file.
